Last night, Underpants Boy watched a movie. (Well, the rest of us did too, but this is a story about him.)
Underpants Boy is four.
The movie had a character that was/is a budding mad scientist. I like mad scientists. In the game that gave me my name there were several mad scientists; one story arc even delved into how important mad scientists are to the technological ecology of the game universe. My personal favourite mad scientist in the game was named ‘Vernon‘ (“Where there is science, there is a way, though perhaps a ludicrously complicated one.”) but the mad scientist in the movie was named ‘Victor.’
Victor is a fine name for a mad scientist: think of Victor von Doom. Victor Frankenstein. Victor Mordenheim. RCA Victor. It’s so good a name that Underpants Boy revealed a heretofore hidden penchant for mad science (well, either that or he was easily impressed by animated angst) by announcing that, from that day forth, he would be known as ‘Victor.’
The following morning Underpants Boy (er, Victor) was talking with his sister (the young lady from ‘Ticking‘). As siblings often do, she added some literary embellishment to his new name. His reaction?
“Stop making stuff up.”
Apparently irony is learned sometime after age four.